Hip Cities and Lost Souls

 

Three

 

Email to Al Sullivan

 

 "What are we stopping for?" Dan groaned from the rear of the van, accompanied by a string of waking coughs. He sounded on death's door step.

 "Gas," Lance said, struggling to downshift. The gears stuck. Something done to it during Dan's mad adventure on the mountain back in Denver.

 He swung the van wide around the curving ramp, the veil of trees giving way to signs of civilization: a series of low brown buildings designed to fit in with the surroundings. Gas station. Big Boy restaurant. Bathroom facilities.

 "Gas?" Dan said, pushing his pillow-wrinkled face through the paisley printed curtain which separated the front seat from the back. His bloated eyes studied the rest area and the near-full parking lot. His expression said he'd slept badly. Nightmares of Denver most likely. "How far did we get?"

 "We're just short of Trinidad," Sarah said, pointing to the map spread out on her lap. She'd played navigator for miles, marking their progress with her finger.

 "Trinidad?" Dan howled. "This is redneck country. Can't we make it into New Mexico?"

 "No," Lance said, indicating the gauge and the needle hugging the empty line.

 "What about the reserve tank?"

 "It's full. But I don't want to tackle the pass with only that."

 Dan took a deep breath, then coughed again, slowly shaking his head. Raton Pass was not the Rockies, but no easy matter either. The van had struggled with it coming north and wouldn't find it easy going back. Lance had noticed smoke during the up and down hills of route 25.

 "I see your point," Dan mumbled and rubbed his stubbly chin with the palm of his hand. "Give me a cigarette will you, I'm out."

 Lance tossed him a pack of marlboros from the dashboard. Dan flipped one out and lit it, his hands still shaking. Meanwhile the van rolled into the parking lot, pickup trucks, campers and tourists cruisers filling most of the spaces. Tour buses cluttered the curb nearest the buildings, dark uniformed drivers leaning against their sides looking bored.

 "Gas or food first?" Lance asked.

 Dan blew out a stream of smoke and stared out at the buildings as the van putted closer. "I wouldn't wise for us to parade in there. Send Sarah in while we get gas."

 "Why me?" Sarah asked.

 "Because out of the three of us, you look straightest," Dan said. "But don't dawdle. Hamburgers and fries'll do."

 Sarah looked indignant. But Lance refused to indulge her temper. Of course she perceived it as an insult, part of the L.A. attitude about being cool. Lance shoved cash into her hands, stopped the van at the end of a row, and propelled her out. "We'll be over at the gas pumps," he said.

 She stood for a moment staring at them through the window.

 "Go!" Dan said, shooing her with his hands. She went, weaving trough the parked cars and finally up the stairs into the building. Lance turned, shifted again, but slammed on the brakes as someone leaped in front of the van, waving his arms.

 "What the...?"

  "Hey man," the hippie said, poking his nose through the driver side window, smelling of roadside dust, his hair dirty and matted, despite the pony-tail.  It made his face taunt, emphasizing the high cheek bones and deep set eyes. Obviously indian. Though not completely. The eyes sparkled blue under the dome light. "It's damn good to see you people here, man. Like I thought we were going to have to sit here forever, or walk south. You going anywhere near New Mexico by any...?"

 "Mike Day?" Dan said, a note of disbelief in his voice. He leaned over the back of the seat, squinting to see the freak's face better. "Is that really you?"

 The freak's diatribe ended abruptly, his flat face instantly wary, his hands dropping away from the window towards his belt.

 "Don't!" Dan shouted, waving his own hands as if to dispel the sudden paranoia. "We're not narcs. It's me. Dan Newhaul. Remember? From New York?"

 The freak shook his head, apparently confused, eyeing the van again, and the more distant traffic moving on and off the ramp from the highway. "Newhaul?" he muttered. "I don't remember..." he wiped a lose strand of hair from his face, then brightened. "Dan? From New York?" He squinted in at Dan's face, still frowning. Dan removed the hat.

 "I didn't have as much hair then," Dan said. "But even you couldn't forget this ugly mug."

 Recognition seemed to grow in Mike's eyes, slowly, doubtfully, then more certainly. "Well, I'll be..."

 Drunken laughter from the front door of the restaurant interrupted him as several rednecks staggered out. Six or seven loud men pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs.

 "Get in, quick," Dan said, swinging open the door Sarah had just vacated.

 "One minute," Mike said and waved for someone in the shadow. A redheaded girl appeared. Stumbling forward with one broken heal, her young face smudged, giving her a helpless expression. Mike shoved her into the van. She grinned at Lance, then looked around at the hackneyed interior, obviously amused. Rug tiles pasted to the walls and ceiling in an effort to provide insolation. Many had already peeled off with the moisture and cold. Rock Posters had been pinned up in their place, giving the whole structure and unstable appearance, as if the van itself would crumble to pieces with the first good bump.

 "Are you real hippies?" she asked.

 "For God's sake, Marie," Mike mumbled, his face flushed as he closed the door. His nervousness had not vanished completely. He studied Dan's face and finally shook his head with amazement. "I was hoping for an ordinary miracle. Not you."

 "You're stuck with me, pal," Dan said. "It's been ages."

 "Which makes me wonder all the more what you're doing in these parts."

 "It's a long story," Dan said. "But in general, I'm here by accident. And you?"

 "Bad luck," Mike said, fist tapping the dashboard, half consciously.

 Dan coughed and sucked his cigarette again, drawing a sharp glance from Mike.

 "You've still got that thing?"

 "Only a little."

 "Didn't Arizona help?"

 "Drove me crazy. Little Susie hit me hard for the alimony. So I took off for L.A."

 "This isn't L.A.," Mike noted.

 "You noticed that, too, eh?" Dan said with a quick look at Lance. "That's part of the long story. But at least I'm not hitching. I thought you were smarter than trying to hitch in Colorado?"

 Mike fished through his pockets and produced a joint. He lit it with deliberation, his dilated eyes studying the flame for a while before taking a deep puff. "I'm on thin ice, Dan," he mumbled. He offered the joint to Lance who shook his head.

 Outside, the rednecks seemed to notice them, pointing towards the van, still laughing and jostling, but in a way that seemed hostile to Lance.

 "I don't think it's safe to sit here like this," Lance said.

 Dan looked up. The crowd had increased as more and more men stumbled out of the restaurant, hunting hats and baseball caps, and mine-working hard hats floating at the core of them.

 "Maybe we should hit the road," Mike suggested. "I don't imagine they think the red, white and blue colors of this van as patriotic."

 "Can't," Dan said. "Lance's old lady's inside getting food."

 "And we need gas," Lance pointed out.

 "To hell with the gas," Dan said, agitated. "We'll fill up somewhere else."

 "Then you drive," Lance said. "I'll get Sarah."

 Dan started to object, but Lance slipped out of the van quickly, moving around its body to keep from being seen. He could hear the talk, jostling dark humor of less than sensitive men, grunt-talk with hints of castration and lynching. He ducked behind the bodies of the cars and weaved down through the maze towards the building. He figured if he could catch Sarah inside, they could slip out another door.

 He worried about Dan's leaving without her. A likely scenario considering the man's general panic. This way, if the man made a run for it with the van, Lance still had Sarah-- and maybe a stay here in the mountains. He could cut his hair and play the role of redneck for a while. He'd seen their kind in Nam, heard their curses and their prayers.

 Meanwhile, Dan slipped into the driver's seat and ground the gears shifting it into reverse.

 It sparked the men near the door, stopping their laughter and when they descended, determination on their faces, the serious sense of violation the van's arrival here had caused. They didn't run, but fanned out through the cars looking to encircle the van. Lance barely avoided noticed by ducking under one of the cars as the boots stomped passed him.

 When he climbed to his feet again, the van had moved, huffing and puffing towards the far perimeter of the parking lot where it made the long circle back around the sea of cars towards the building again. The door was clear. Dan obviously expected Lance and Sarah to meet him there at the curb.

 Lance scurried up and ran through the maze of cars. He didn't see the grey-suited man until he bumped into him, the face half hidden behind unnecessary sunglasses. Mouth grim.

 "Excuse me," Lance said, as the laughter of the rednecks rose from behind him, all part of the cat-and-mouse game. Van putting around the perimeter of the lot as the cowboy's yelled. The man grabbed Lance's arm.

 "You tell Newhaul we want him," he said.  The other man stood a few feet away with hands in his pockets, and equally grim.

 "Newhaul?" Lance said, scratching his head. "I don't think I know anyone by that name."

 "You tell him," the man said, then let go of Lance's arm.

 Lance darted to one side and headed for the stairs, the men moving behind him like ghosts, the glint of their pistols showing in the parking lot lights as they prepared for the van's arrival.

 Lance shouted at the van and waved both his arms, trying to hint of danger. But the van sped up. Perhaps believing Lance ready or in trouble of his own. The rednecks had largely given up their hooting, though some had actually given chase, huffing and puffing at the far row of cars as the van came around.

 From the front door of the restaurant came Sarah, a bag of food in each arm.

 "No!" Lance screamed. "Get back inside." He leaped up the stairs. But the van putted down the straight-away at them. The two grey men waiting.

 Sarah looked confused. "What's the matter?"

 "Men from Denver, I think," Lance said, glancing around, gaze catching on an orange and brown trash can. He grabbed it up and threw it at the men, missing, hitting the hood to a pickup truck instead. Trash spilled out across the hood and to the feet of the men. It distracted them. Jerking their heads around just as the van pulled up.

 Lance shoved Sarah down the stairs and into the open side door.

 "Gun it!" he shouted.

 Something popped. A hole appeared in the metal side and exited with a large hole out the other side.

 "Damn it! Gun it!" Lance screamed.

 Dan was. But the tangle of gears made the van hesitate. Another bullet struck the back end, forming a neat round hole in the rear window. But the van had garnered speed, and Dan weaved it back out the ribbon road to the highway, the thick stand of trees blocking their view.

 Dan's face showed pale and drawn in the rear view mirror as he muttered something about doom.

                                                                   ***********

 "How did they get there ahead of us?" Dan asked, gaze flickering up into the mirror. But the road stayed quiet. A distant set of headlights but not gaining. A tourist, probably.

 "I don't know," Lance said.

 Mike shook his head. "They might have been cops."

 "They knew my name," Dan barked. "That was no accident."

 "Then it was the queerest bit of bullshit I've ever encountered," Mike mumbled, Marie asleep on his shoulder. "Why say anything? They could have shot you coming around and been done with it."

 "Look, I don't have an more answers than you do," Dan said, coughing. "But they did shoot."

 "And missed. Deliberately by the looks of it."

 "Which means what?"

 "They weren't trying to kill you as much as scare you."

 "Why?"

 Mike shrugged. "Too keep you scared and running-- and maybe you'll lead them somewhere. I suspect they want their money or dope before they do you in."

 Dan looked over, something easing on his face. "But I don't have the dope or the money."

 "Which is why they haven't killed you yet," Mike said. "And why they're hanging back, waiting and watching. They probably followed you all the way from Denver without your knowing it."

 "And'll follow us all the way to Albuquerque, too," Dan moaned.

 "Maybe," Mike said, squinting back at the distant headlights. "But you didn't have me with you before."

                                                                   ***********

 "So what happened, Mike?" Dan asked. Hours had passed. The others had crawled into the bed to sleep. The old days filtered through Dan's head, recalling hopes and dreams that had long vanished in both of them. "How come the cops got onto you? I thought your farm was safe?"

 Mike stirred out of deep thought. Raton Pass glowed on either side of them, red clay and sharp sand stone shifting with the moving headlights, creating a dance of shadows.

 "Safe?" Mike mumbled. "I guess it was. But my partner got greedy. Took the harvest in a month early. I got back, he was gone with most of the dope."

 "Sounds familiar," Dan said with a snort and a cough, going through Lance's Marlboro's one after the other.

 "Except my friend didn't get far. He got caught by some nosy deputy sheriff in Cheyenne, who took a peek under the tarp of his flatbed. I guess he figured to deal his way out by giving them me. Marie and I'd just got back from Chicago when the cops showed up. We snuck out the far end and hitched a ride with some tourists to where you found us."

 "Any plans?"

 "One, but it's vague. Ever hear of a character named Buckingham?"

 "Not that I can recall. Who is he?"

 "A rumor or legend. Depending who's doing the telling. His name's been floating around the circuit for years. One of those half-myths which comes up from time to time. Lately, he's supposedly been active again. Maybe I can hook up with his crowd, get some bucks together, bury myself somewhere-- like out of the country."

 Mike's face glowed in the green light of the dashboard. He looked older, sadder, and infinitely weary-- the deep kind of weariness that needed years to cure.

 "You figure on picking up a clue down at the house?"

 "It crossed my mind."

 "You know who's there?"

 "I know."

 "You think she's forgiven you yet?"

 "Two years is a long time. But I suppose we'll see when we get there."

 Dan nodded, lit another cigarette from the ruins of the last, and glanced up into the rear view mirror. The distant headlights remained, floating up the pass like a ghost.


hipcities menu

monologue menu

The Dark Side of Steven Spielberg -- photos and Essays

Main Menu

New photo/video menu

poetry Menu

War of the Worlds Menu

movie review Menu